


Chasing Butterflies

by carolinecrane



Category: Little Men - Louisa May Alcott, Little Women Series - Louisa May Alcott
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan had collected him fair and square.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing Butterflies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sinsense](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinsense/gifts).



> This is a little AU for the end of the book (I just like to pretend the sequel doesn't exist at all) but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

As long as he can remember, Dan’s been collecting things. Odd bits here and there: a shell that shines just so in the right light, a bird’s egg the same color as the summer sky, a stone smooth enough to keep in his pocket and run a thumb over to keep him from fidgeting too much during lessons. He collects the things that no one else wants, sees the good in them when no one else does.

He collected Nat too, from the first moment Dan saw him. He was all sharp angles and hunger, of use to no one at all. But when he played his fiddle he became something else, something beautiful, just like Dan’s other treasures.

Nat’s the reason Dan agreed to come to Mrs. Jo’s school, and he’s the reason Dan couldn’t stay away. He liked the others as well, Demi and Teddy and Daisy and even Mrs. Jo, but it was Nat who brought him back. He was Dan’s, after all; Dan had collected him fair and square, and he couldn’t just leave part of his collection behind.

Nat’s the reason he stayed, too, at least in part. He likes having someplace to call home, people to care for him and three square meals, and he even likes some of his classes. He likes the museum and being allowed to collect things right out in the open, to show them off to people who are interested in knowing about them.

But Nat’s the reason he leaves the museum on warm summer afternoons, the reason he climbs a tree by the brook and leans back against the trunk to listen while Nat fiddles. Nat’s eyes half close as he lets the music surround him, working through whatever piece he’s learning and pausing every so often to adjust his fingers on the strings.

Normally he’s so caught up in the music that he doesn’t notice Dan watching. Today is no exception, so Dan doesn’t worry what Nat will think of him studying the flutter of his eyelids or the movement of his fingers as he plays. 

It’s one of the few times Dan can bear to sit still, and if he said so out loud Nat would probably claim it was the soothing properties of the music, but Dan knows better. Watching Nat is like chasing butterflies, like talking softly to the horses until they trust him enough to come whenever he calls.

For Dan, Nat’s just like any other wild thing to be tamed, and for that he can wait as long as it takes. So he sits in the tree and he listens to Nat play, watches each expression flit across his narrow face and wonders how much more waiting he’ll have to do before he can touch Nat without making him startle.

“It needs a fair bit of work,” Nat says, and Dan realizes for the first time that he’s stopped playing. His fair cheeks are flushed and he’s not quite looking at Dan, and when it dawns on Dan that he’s staring, he shifts against the trunk and looks away.

“Reckon it sounds all right.”

His voice sounds gruff, and Dan doesn’t mean for it to, but the sound makes Nat blush even harder. Dan thinks about tracing the pink skin along his cheek, wonders if it would feel hot to the touch. He wonders how Nat’s fingers would feel on his own skin, calloused from violin strings and boy-rough in a way that Daisy and Mrs. Jo’s touches will never be.

“All right isn’t good enough for making a living,” Nat says, fiddling with his bow now in an effort to keep from looking at Dan.

“There’s still time before you have to worry about that,” Dan says, leaning forward to touch Nat’s shoulder. “You’re just sixteen, Nat.”

“Yes, but you’re eighteen now, and soon you’ll be done with school. I thought…”

“Thought what?” Dan prompts when Nat trails off, his ears as pink as his cheeks.

“I thought I might go with you. We could earn our way together, just like always. If you like.”

 _Together_. The word makes Dan’s heart sing the same way Nat’s fingers tease ever-more complicated tunes out of his fiddle, and when he lets out a laugh it sounds delighted and not at all like his usual rough self.

“I expect they’ll let me stay on for a bit, train up someone new to take over the museum,” Dan says, but his hand’s still resting on Nat’s shoulder, and when he lets it trail down Nat’s arm, he doesn’t pull away. “No need to miss me just yet.”

“I would, you know,” Nat says, looking down at his bow so he doesn’t have to face Dan. “If you went away and left me alone.”

“Wouldn’t do that, would I?” Dan’s hand is still resting on his arm, but when he starts to pull it away, Nat’s hand darts out to catch it. For a moment he stares down at the pale hand covering his own, marveling at the slim, graceful fingers against his tanned, thick hands.

“No, I don’t guess you would,” Nat answers. 

His fingers slide through Dan’s, laced together and holding on, and Dan thinks he’d be happy to sit here, just like this, for as long as Nat likes. He leans in just a bit, and when his free hand comes up to touch Nat’s cheek, he still doesn’t pull away.

“Even if they tossed me out, I’d come back for you,” Dan murmurs, his gaze following the path of his fingertips along Nat’s jaw.

“I couldn’t bear it if you went away again,” Nat says, the words warm on Dan’s cheek, and he’s not sure when they got so close, but Nat doesn’t seem to mind.

There’s just a few inches between them now, and it only seems natural to close the distance and press a kiss to Nat’s parted lips. For a moment Nat stills, like a wild animal going quiet in the face of danger, and Dan thinks he’s pushed too far. Then slender fingers curve around the front of his shirt, not holding Dan tight so much as holding on, and Nat makes a muffled noise and kisses Dan back.

“Promise,” Dan murmurs, though what he’s promising, he can’t exactly say. 

But Nat seems to understand all the same; he nods and traces Dan’s rough knuckles with the tips of his fingers, feather-soft, like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. For a moment he looks down at their hands where they're resting on Dan's leg, then a fresh blush spreads across Nat's cheeks and he looks up to smile at Dan.

Do you suppose we could do that again, sometimes?" Nat asks, his voice soft as though he's half-hoping Dan won't hear.

"Reckon so," Dan says, then he gives in to the urge to run his thumb along Nat's cheek. "It'll have to be our secret."

Nat nods, then he seems to think for a moment before he gathers the courage to push up on his knees and kiss Dan again. 

"Our secret. I like that," Nat says, and Dan smiles and kisses him once more to show that he likes it just as well.


End file.
